


a rose by any other name

by glundergun (cleardishwashers)



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Birthday, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleardishwashers/pseuds/glundergun
Summary: the twins' birthday is coming up, and mac decides to do something to celebrate.happy birthday riley! i hope you like it and that you have a wonderful year!!<33





	a rose by any other name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notafamousperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notafamousperson/gifts).

Ever since he’d met them, Mac has never seen Dennis and Dee celebrate their birthday. He has a general idea of why Dennis doesn’t celebrate  _ now— _ any reminder of his age verges on painful— but he’s never understood why they didn’t do anything when they were younger. The most he’d seen them do was throw out their fakes once they turned 21. August 18 is coming up soon, though, and he’s bored to shit, so— “Charlie, do you know why Dennis and Dee never do anything for their birthday?”

Charlie looks up from where he’s nursing his beer. “Frank probably did that whole Christmas thing again on their birthdays.”

“Jesus, what a shit dad.”

“Wh— your dad has threatened to kill you, you know. Multiple times.”

“Yeah, but at least I got Christmas gifts.”

“Christmas gifts that were stolen.”

“Well… potato, po-stealing.”

“That’s not what the saying is.”

“Jesus Christ, Charlie, I  _ know.” _

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“Okay then.” Charlie goes back to his beer.

“Well, aren’t you gonna ask about why I’m asking about Dennis and Dee’s birthday?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s  _ polite?” _

“Uhh… okay, why are you asking about Dennis and Dee’s birthday?”

“No, you ruined it.” Goddamn Charlie.

“Well, now I wanna know!”

“Then why didn’t you ask without my prompting you?!”

“I didn’t wanna know back  _ then, _ did I?!”

“Holy fucking  _ shit, _ Charlie—”

The door to the back office swings open, and Frank walks out. “What the hell’re you two yelling about? I’m tryna have my  _ me time _ back there!”

Mac wrinkles his nose. “Frank, can you watch porn in your own goddamn home for once?”

“Nope. Hwang cut off our internet.”

Jesus Christ. “How did Hwang— oh my God, did you bother to pay your internet bill?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

Jesus  _ Christ. _ “Well, there’s your problem! You can’t have internet without paying your goddamn internet bill!”

“Whatever,” Frank says. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Mac’s having an aneurysm over Dennis and Dee’s birthday,” Charlie supplies.

“Oh shit! That’s tomorrow!” Frank laughs, his eyes filled with glee. “Aw,  _ man, _ I remember when they were younger, I wouldn’t get them anything ‘till they got  _ me _ something first, an’ then—” he pauses to let out another cackle— “an’ then when they scraped together some piece-of-shit gift, I’d say it wasn’t good enough! Oh, those were fun times!”

Mac squints at him.  _ Goddamn, _ no wonder Dennis and Dee are so fucked up. “That’s terrible.”

“No it wasn’t! It was hilarious!”

“Eh, sounds pretty terrible to me, man,” Charlie says.

“Kids these days,” Frank says, shaking his head. “Anyway, why the hell do you care about their birthday?”

Mac shifts. “I dunno, man. I was just thinking we should do something, y’know?”

“When the hell have they done anything for  _ our _ birthdays?” Charlie asks.

“I dunno about  _ you, _ but Dennis lets me pick the brand of popcorn on my birthday,” Mac says.

“That’s kinda sad, that he doesn’t already let you do that.”

“Charlie, I pick the movie, he picks the popcorn. That’s just how it works.”

“So on his birthday do you let him pick the movie?”

“No, because that would mess up the balance.”

Charlie scrunches up his face in confusion. “You two are weird.”

“At least we don’t sleep  _ ass-to-ass.” _

“Hey! You jus’ don’t know the value of an ass-to-ass sleeping arrangement,” Frank interjects.

“Okay, well, I’m sick of this conversation, so… Frank, I need twenty bucks,” Mac says.

“Why the hell do you need twenty bucks?’

“Charlie, can you ask Frank for twenty bucks?”

“Frank, can I have twenty bucks?”

“Sure,” Frank says, fishing out his wallet. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Charlie, can I get twenty bucks?”

“Yeah, sure, man.”

“Hey! You tricked me!” Frank exclaims as Mac stuffs the wrinkled note into his pocket.

“It’s not  _ tricking _ you if you’re just an idiot,” Mac says, already walking out of the bar. “See ya.”

The nearest Wawa is a ten-minute walk— it’s not pleasant, given how the August sun beats down on him, but it’s easy. He peruses the selection of sheet cake, bending over the display case to critique them, and then—

“Dee? What the hell are you doing here?” Mac asks, catching sight of her reflection in the glass.

“Nothing,” Dee says, crossing her arms. “What’re  _ you _ doing here?”

“Nothing,” Mac replies.

They stare at each other for almost a minute, and then Dee breaks. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“No.”

_ “Fine! _ Every year on my birthday I buy a sheet cake and treat myself.” She shifts her gaze, glaring at a point over his shoulder instead of directly at him.

“Meaning… you buy a sheet cake and eat it all by yourself.”

_ “Yes, _ asshole.”

“That’s— Jesus, Dee, that’s too sad to make fun of.”

“Fuck  _ off. _ You know, I don’t need to take this. It’s my goddamn  _ birthday _ tomorrow, and—”

“Dee, just—” he grabs her wrist, and she whips her head back towards him with all the fury of a thousand drug-dealing fathers— “look, I’m here because I’m getting a cake for yours and Dennis’s birthday.” It’s only half a lie, because he really  _ was _ getting a cake for Dennis, and it won’t cost that much extra to add  _ ‘& Dee’ _ to the top, and  _ seriously, _ Dee’s tradition really  _ is _ too sad to make fun of.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting— for her to soften, maybe, or maybe for her to scoff, but he’s not expecting her to laugh, with the same sort of vicious glee that Frank had shown not twenty minutes ago. “Yeah. Don’t do that,” she says, ripping her wrist away.

“Why the hell not? Is it because of that shit Frank pulled?” Mac asks, and suddenly he wonders how Dennis and Dee have put up with Frank for the past decade or so.

_ “Yes, _ it’s because of that,” Dee snaps. “And that was the one time of year where he had it worse than me, because he actually  _ gave _ a shit about it.”

Mac can picture it. It’s not pretty. He suddenly wonders if Dennis did anything when he was in North Dakota, if he even had friends who  _ knew _ his birthday. “Okay, well, what if I tried to, like, reprogram his associations or something?”

Dee snorts. “Like you did with Christmas? Where the hell did you learn about  _ reprogramming, _ anyways?”

He forges past the second part of the question, saying, “Exactly like Christmas, Dee! Except this time Frank and his idiot business partner won’t be screwing shit up!”

She raises her eyebrows at him, like  _ he’s _ the idiot for wanting to do something nice. “Yeah. You do that. Meanwhile,  _ I _ am going to be eating my delicious cake and lounging naked on my couch—”

_ “Ew, _ Dee, I’ve sat on that thing—”

“And I will not be thinking of any of you!” she finishes. “Have a good day, boner. Or don’t.” She swipes a cake, flips him off, and then walks to the checkout.

“Goddamn bitch,” Mac mutters.

“Sir, which cake did you want me to write on?” the employee behind the counter asks.

“Just— any one, really,” Mac sighs. “He won’t be able to eat more than, like, one frosting rose, anyways.”

“We don’t carry cakes with frosting roses, sorry.”

“Oh, goddamnit, just pick one and write  _ ‘Happy Birthday Dennis’ _ on it.”

The cake turns out to say  _ ‘Happy Birthday Denise,’ _ and by the time Mac realizes, he’s unlocking the apartment door, sweaty and out of breath. “What the hell happened to  _ you?” _ Dennis asks, looking up from his book.

“It’s, like, a hundred degrees,” Mac pants, opening the fridge and letting the cool air waft over him. “I walked.”

“Just— go take a shower,” Dennis says. “I don’t want you sweating all over the couch.”

There are three factors that go into the catastrophe.

One— the walk from the Wawa to the apartment knocked loose the plastic covering on the cake. Two— Mac forgets to put the cake in the fridge, and Dennis doesn’t bother looking into the bag. Three— a thunderstorm hits Philly, knocking out their power.

On the other side of the city, an apartment in Charlie and Frank’s building catches fire, courtesy of shitty electrical wiring, and the Gruesome Twosome decide to head to Mac and Dennis’s apartment instead of waiting for the fire department to extinguish everything. Frank’s insistent knocking only wakes Dennis up, and when he lets them in, he is already too annoyed at the power outage and then the intrusion to do anything  _ other _ than wake Mac up and envelop  _ him _ in the shitstorm, too. They sit in the living room, and then someone starts an argument, and the noise, coupled with all the other disruptions of the night, scares one of the mice in Charlie’s pocket. The mouse scurries away, Charlie starts yelling, and the four of them embark on a journey to find little Algernop. Algernop is unaware that the consternation is because of him, and he sets out to find a meal to calm his nerves. Lo and behold, there is a cake sitting out on the kitchen counter! Algernop decides that Denise, whoever they are, won’t mind if he eats some of the cake, and he sets about doing that. Meanwhile, Charlie and Frank are destroying Mac and Dennis’s living room in search of the little mouse, and when the lights finally flicker back on, there is enough damage to potentially merit an insurance claim. Some highlights include:

  * Vintage Superman piggy bank, now in shards on the floor
  * Two vases shattered (not because they fell, but because Mac got frustrated)
  * A dent in the wall (someone shoved someone a little too hard)
  * An entire bookcase, toppled
  * And of course, Algernop and the cake.

Mac looks around at the damage, and his stomach sinks. And then Frank says, “Happy birthday, eh, Dennis?” and Mac’s stomach sinks even more.

Dennis’s face hardens. “Get out,” he says.

“Relax, Dennis, it was just—”

“Frank, if you say another word, I will put my fist through your  _ face,” _ Dennis says.

“Yeah, or I will,” Mac tacks on.

“Jesus,” Frank grumbles. “No respect for yer own father—”

“You’re not my fucking dad!” Dennis yells. “You— just get the fuck out!”

Frank glares for a solid thirty seconds, and then he walks out and slams the door behind him, muttering shit about pansies. “Sorry ‘bout that, dude—”

“Charlie, you too!” Dennis snaps, his fists balled at his sides. “Just—  _ leave!” _

“What did I do?”

“I mean, you kinda messed up our apartment, so…” Mac grimaces apologetically. “I’ll call you if we find Algernop, okay?”

“Fine, but you better not make him into stew,” Charlie says, and then the apartment is empty except for Mac and Dennis, whose entire body is still so tense that it’s practically vibrating.

“Sorry about—” Mac gestures to the wreckage around them.

“Don’t— why the  _ hell _ are you apologizing?!” Dennis asks, his voice echoing off the now-bare walls.

“I dunno, just— look, dude, just take a deep breath.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Dennis, c’mon.” They engage in a staring competition for a few moments—  _ God, _ Mac doesn’t think he could ever really get tired of staring at Dennis’s face— and then Mac cautiously steps forward. Dennis sags into his arms, a little colder and a little frailer than he has any right to be. “I’m sorry about this.”

“‘S not your fault, though,” Dennis says, clinging to Mac’s neck. Mac hugs him tighter, trying to cling onto the familiarity of Dennis’s smell, his clothes, his hair— “I just wish it wasn’t  _ today, _ y’know?”

“Yeah,” Mac says. “I got you a cake. I made them do one of those tiny sugar roses, so you can have that without having gluten, and—”

“I don’t want it, Mac,” Dennis says. “I mean— I’m glad, you know, that you— yeah.” It’s an unspoken  _ thank you, _ and Mac will take what he can get. Anyone else who’d want to be in a relationship with Dennis would probably go insane fighting for scraps. Anyone else who’d want to be in a relationship would Dennis wouldn’t know him like Mac does, like Mac knows that Dennis doesn’t like to talk about certain things on certain days and that Dennis needs the skins on the apples peeled and that Dennis says  _ thank you _ every day in a million ways, all of them fucked up and deviant and self-destructive, because Dennis is a fucked up and deviant and self-destructive guy. Mac’s made his peace with that. “I’m tired.”  _ I don’t want to go to sleep. _ “Let’s just watch a movie?”  _ Don’t leave. _

“Sounds good,” Mac says, sitting down and pulling Dennis down with him, choosing to ignore the wreckage of the living room in favor of threading his fingers through Dennis’s hair. “You can pick the movie.”  _ I love you. _


End file.
